


Remembrance

by Wheres_My_Coffee



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, Memories, Nightmares, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Smut, Suicide, Thomas gets his memories back in Paradise, returning memories, spoilers for TDC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheres_My_Coffee/pseuds/Wheres_My_Coffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Newtmas one-shot which does contain some triggers, please read the tags! This is unbetad, and my tumblr is Alattecoffee if you'd like to get in contact with me.

Paradise is nice. 

It's not perfect, but it's freedom and a new life. Thomas thinks that it would be paradise if distraught chocolate eyes and dirty blonde hair don't fill his dreams, and the gunshot doesn't echo in his ears. 

He remembers. 

It makes sense that the device in his brain would cease working eventually. It hits him like a avalanche, knocking the air out of his lungs. His entire life. 

He remembers white rooms and computer screens. He remembers the fuzzy quality of Newt, his Newt, climbing those walls, those fucking walls, and jumping off. He remembers screaming and crying and Teresa and Chuck having to pull him away, holding him as he sobs and shakes because not Newt, not that annoyingly calm and sarcastic blonde that never fucking gave up, was always at Thomas' side, offering insight and encouragement. He remembers Teresa telling him that he survived, and the overwhelming sense of relief that he'd see his Newt again, even if Newt had no clue who he was and probably never would. He remembers wanting to cradle his Newt as he lies in the medshack, leg wrapped up heavily, looking empty. Not sad. Not angry. Just empty. He looks how Thomas feels. 

He feels bad for being glad that Newt can't be a runner anymore. He feels glad that Newt is just a little bit safer. 

Thomas wakes up to wet cheeks and a hammock that feels too big.

He remembers saying goodbye. 

Newt stands in a white cotton shirt and brown trousers. He holds his arms out, and Thomas buries himself into it, smelling his shampoo and sweat and everything Newt. He wants to tell him to remember, to order him, but he knows that he won't. It hurts. It hurts so fucking much, and he wants to run, to take Newt's hand and sprint. But he doesn't. He walks with Newt and straps him in, pressing kisses to his hair, his nose, his mouth. He watches as Newt leaves him. 

He wakes with a scream and a white cotton shirt balled tightly in his hands. 

He remembers sneaking up onto the top of the building, the sun setting, sending out shades of crimson and mandarin and dandelion. He watches as Newt's hair blows in the wind, feels his touch when he pulls him close for a searing kiss.

They make love that night. It's slow and desperate, and Thomas indulges in the sounds Newt makes, all raspy gasps and moans of Thomas' name. He remembers tasting the salt on Newt's skin, all soft and perfect. The creaks of the bed and the slapping of skin on skin rings in Thomas' ears when he wakes with a wet spot on his trousers. 

He remembers everything now. He remembers slinging his arm around Newt's neck, the smell of his cheap cologne as he leans in close to help Thomas examine something. He remembers the taste and feel of Newt's lips, chapped and dry against his lips. All the little things, about how Newt secretly loves being the little spoon, and he has a crazy sweet tooth, and how he was once way faster than Thomas. Actually, fuck that, because Newt is better than him, better than everybody. 

He once swore to Newt that he couldn't live without him, and he knows that it's the truth. 

Paradise is nice. But the real Paradise is wherever Newt is, and Newt's not here. 

Minho finds him with a bullet in his head and Newt's shirt clutched to his chest. 

He reaches Paradise, and it's the Glade, surrounded by forest instead of walls. Teresa and Chuck tackle him, and he wraps his arms around them and kisses both of their heads, an unspoken forgiveness between him and Teresa. She knows who he's looking for immediately, and nods to the cliff. 

Newt has his back to him, blonde hair shining in the sun, simply looking out. Thomas doesn't know what to do, which is ridiculous because this is Newt, and he shouldn't be uncomfortable. So he just walks over and wraps his arms around him from behind tightly, and Newt freezes. "Tommy?" He whispers, disbelief swarming in his voice. "What the hell are you doing here?" He immediately pushes him away, and Thomas feels terror rise in his throat. Does Newt hate him for what he did? For killing him? "I...I came to you. I-I remembered us, Newt, before the Maze, and I couldn't-I couldn't-" The unspoken words of 'live without you' linger in the air. Newt remains silent for a while, and then sighs. "I wanted you to live a bloody long life, Tommy." He murmurs eventually. "It's not much of a life without you." Thomas immediately fires back, and that's all it takes for Newt's lips to be on his. It's rough and demanding, but his lips feel the same, and his hand still curls around the nape of Thomas' neck the way it used to. "Do we need to breathe if we're dead?" He mumbles against his mouth, and Newt chuckles. "I don't know, but let me know if you get a bit light headed." And he swallows his lips again, heated and passionate, and Thomas tries his best to keep up. 

They lie in Newt's room, Newt being the little spoon. "You remember, don't you?" Thomas mumbles, nuzzling into his hair with his nose. It's pulled back into a tiny little ponytail, and holy shit, Newt has a jawline that good? The boy in question hums, pressing closer. "Mmm." He nods. "I used to be faster than you," He says smugly, and Thomas pokes him. "I was their favourite." 

"No idea why, mind you-" 

"Oi!" 

Thomas' fingers dance alongside Newt's ribs, and the blonde squirms and bucks with a giggle. Thomas laughs, shifting to quickly straddle him, and begins his assault. He hasn't heard Newt's laughter in so long, and it's music to his ears as his cheeks flush and his eyes crinkle with laughter. 

He doesn't know how the tickling changes into heated touching and kisses, or when Newt's hands slide up his shirt, large and warm, to tug it off. 

Newt is beautiful. 

He's got more muscle since the last time they did this, which makes sense due to Newt's history with the Glade and the Scorch compared to sitting in a WICKED compound. His hair spills over the pillow, and Thomas latches his mouth onto Newt's pulse, sucking and licking. The sound that Newt makes is heaven, and Thomas resists the urge to take and take and never stop. But he wants to take his time, wants to take Newt apart piece by piece until he's a writhing, begging mess. 

He peels Newt's clothes off, and Newt does the same to his, throwing them on the floor carelessly. He ignores the slightly strange angle of Newt's ankle. He slicks his palm and drags it up Newts' cock, relishing in the guttural moan and the buck of his hips. He slides a finger into him, and all his control flies out of the window, because Newt is so tight and hot and he wants him right now. 

He preps him quickly but surely. "Are you ready?" He breathes, and the look Newt gives him, gloriously flushed and desperate. All for him. Newt tugs him down for a fierce kiss, ruthless and desperate. "Yes," He tells him, and Thomas sighs in relief and slides into him slowly with a moan. Newt is so tight and hot and perfect, just as he remembers, and Newt pulls him down to kiss him, all tongue and teeth. He draws his hips back and slams forward into Newt, and relishes in the sharp cry that he gains from it. 

The room is filled with the sounds of the bed creaking, skin on skin slapping together, and harsh pants and moaning of each others name. Newt tangles his hands in his hair as Thomas slams into him, hard and fast. They may have reunited, and they may be in love, but they don't want it soft and gentle, because they've never done it like that. They just fall apart in each other's arms, high on pleasure with their release making a mess out of them. 

Newt cleans them both up, and they flop back under the covers, happy and sated. Newt automatically becomes the little spoon again. "I love you." Thomas mumbles, and Newt sighs contentedly. "I know," He replies, and that's all he needs to say.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave Kudos and comments, and I'm accepting Newtmas prompts.


End file.
